


Generation X

by Mislav



Category: Cold Case
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Racism, case!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mislav/pseuds/Mislav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post the season seven. Lilly and the team re open the case of a double murder committed shortly after the Los Angeles Riots after a single photograph surfaces and sheds a doubt on the original theory, that the victims had killed each other. Some questions remaining from the season seven finale will be answered later on. Case!fic. Complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I don't own any of the Cold Case characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
> 
> Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.
> 
> This is a case fic, no shipping in any way (unless you count the case part), just an occasional friendship and it focuses mostly on the case and character dynamics (more of the latter in chapters that will follow), so keep that in mind. It takes place post season seven, kinda my version of season eight premiere.

~The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event.~

(2000 Light Years Away by Green Day)

May 2nd 1992

The bright sun beams peeked through the glass door of the small bookstore in Philadelphia suburb, currently occupied by a single customer. Twenty years old Tracy Smith, young African American woman with long black hair and black eyes, of average height and weight, who worked as a clerk there, smiled politely before handling the book over to a middle aged brunette standing behind the counter. The woman took it, returning the smile, and looked interested as she examined the cover.

"Here you go", Tracy exclaimed. "I hope that you will enjoy it."

"I'm sure I will. Thank you."

Tracy's smile widened. "You're welcome."

She put the money in the cash box before checking her watch. It was already ten minutes after the end of her shift. She took the purse laying near by, put it over her shoulder and turned to face Jack Stanworth, an eldery man who owned the place and was standing near by at the moment, big rounded eyeglasses on hus face as he was examining some of the older receipts.

"Goodbye, mr. Stanworth", she said before heading to the door.

"Goodbye, Tracy", he said, smiling warmly. "Take care of yourself."

She returned the smile. "I will."

An hour later, she was still sitting in her car, halfway to home. Tracy Smith sighed and leaned back in her seat, feeling really frustrated. She had been stuck in traffic for almost an hour, and she was just driving back home from work when that knot formed. She just wanted to go home and take some rest, but at that moment, that wasn't a possibility, and it looked like it won't be for a while.

It looked awful and static: all those cars and trucks in one long, seemingly endless line, not moving at all.

She shivered at the loud sound of car door closing near by and, after pulling the driver's side window down, leaning her head through it and looking around, saw a young Caucasian man standing at the side of the road with his back against the grey Ford parked right behind her own vehicle. He was about 5'9, average weight but slightly build, with short brown hair and brown eyes. Drops of sweat were rolling down his cheeks and the sides of his neck. It almost unsettled her, though she didn't notice that at first, how tense he looked. Like he was about to loose it.

One of the reports on the radio caught Tracy's attention. "Still no good news regarding the current situation in Los Angeles", young host read in a cold, professional tone, and Tracy felt herself chill. "As of this morning, the body count had raisen up to forty. So far, forty people had been murdered during the long ongoing Los Angeles riots sparkled by the release of the video tape of Rodney King beating and subsequent not guilty verdict regarding the nine police officers who had participated..."

Tracy groaned, turning the radio off. She hated hearing about all those incidents happening in Los Angeles and just wanted it to be over already. She couldn't believe what some people were capable of and how fast that... crimes and hate were escalating. Not to mention that her brother had been living there. The mere thought of that made her gut wretch.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound that she longed to her for an hour: a sound of a car driving away. The at the end of the other line, the one right next to the one she was stuck in. She smirked and began to carefully drive towards the opposite line, that suddenly became more likely to move forward soon.

But, after almost an hour of sitting in her small car during a hot weather, she was really tired and her attention had dropped. She took one more look at the empty spot, too long look, and ended up bumping into the car parked behind her. The one belonging to that nervous guy. She shivered at the sound of car lights breaking and gasped silently, pulling back into the line. She heard him, albeit faintly, cursing outside.

She leaned back in her seat, afraid to look outside. But she was able to hear his footsteps. And his voice.

An owner of the grey Ford, that she had just bumped into, approached her. And he was angry. "What the hell do you think you're doing...", he growled, leaning over to look through her driver's side window. As soon as he did he widened his eyes and stopped in his tracks, he even stopped talking. It took Tracy a couple of seconds to dare to face him: her heart skipped a beat at his facial expression. It wasn't an annoyance, not even an anger... it was more like a disgust.

"I'm sorry...", she started apologizing, her voice suddenly lower than usual.

She stopped upon seeing something that baffled her, even unsettled her. Man, whole name, she would later learn, was Alan Grey, no longer looked disgusted. He looked... smug.

"It figures", he commented.

Tracy frowned, titlting her head at the side. "What..."

Just about the time she finished saying that word, he opened the car door. Before she was able to say anything else, he was holding her by her T-shirt, pulling her out of the car and getting into her face, breathing heavily, jaw clenched. Several people gasped, some just started at the confrontation in shock, but nobody stepped in to break things off. At first.

"Your people just can't fuction in the civilized society, can't you?", he growled at her. She felt her heart thundering against her chest. "My people?", she asked.

"You know what I mean", he hissed.

A tall, heavy set guy finally got out of his car, with a disgusted look on his face. His muscles were bulging at the white T-shirt that he had been wearing, his walk fast and sterm. "Hey!", he yelled out, making Alan turn his head to face him.

"Maybe you should let a girl alone", the guy ordered more than suggested.

The guy was almost twice the Alan's side and looking deadly serious. Still, Alan didn't look at all scared once he locked eyes with him, giving him an icy stare.

He didn't notice Tracy's hand reach slowly through the opened driver's side window into the car...

"Maybe you should mind your own business if you don't want to get your ass kicked, pal."

The guy stared at Alan for some time, but eventually just shook his head and went back in his car.

Once Alan turned facing Tracy, he froze, widening his eyes. Tracy had a gun pointed at his head, Smith&Wesson .38. Her hand was shaking a little, but the look in her eyes was determined.

"Let go of me."

Alan smirked, trying to remain calm. "You don't have the..."

"Let go of me!"

Alan tried staring her down, but that didn't work. He simply scoffed at her and took a step back.

"This isn't over!", he announced, walking back towards his car. "You're going down, bitch."

He sat back on the driver's seat, slamming the door closed, wrapping his hands tightly around the steering wheel. Tracy took one last look at him before going back into her car, breathing heavily and ignoring the shocked looks from the other drivers. Her hands were still shaking once she put the gun back into the glove compartment, just about the moment when the cars started moving again.

#

June 3rd 1992

Tracy's dead body was lying face up on the ground in the dark alley, her big black eyes still wide opened, but dull and lifeless.

About four feet away laid Alan's lifeless body, his .45 caliber gun still in his right hand. A trail of blood starting from the gunshot would to his forehead was running down his cheek, forming a pool of blood on the floor.

It was only five hours later that their bodies were discovered.

A week later, late at night detective Jonny Ford walked down the evidence locker, a box in his hand. He placed the box with "SMITH, T." written on it on one of the shelves and gave it one more sad look before turning around and walking away (box regarding Alan had been placed somewhere else before). On the lid, it read "CLOSED".

#

September 17th 2011

It was an unusually cold, but surprisingly sunny September morning. Several light sun beams shined upon the building of Philadelphia Police Headquaters, many cars already driving down the near by road, the typical city noise soon spreadikg through the neighborhood.

And, several floors abover, in Cold Case Division, detective Lilly Rush was walking down the hallway, followed by her colleague Will Jeffries, who had been catching her up with the new case that their team had just been assigned to. "Double murder", he explained, handling Lilly one of the files. She stopped to examine it as Jeffries turned facing her. "You probably heard about it at some point. Twenty five years old Alan Grey was found found dead in the alleyway, single gunshot wound to his head. Twenty years old Tracy Smith was found dead only four feet away, two gunshot wounds to her chest. They were both lying face up on the ground and had guns in their hands. Within a week, the case was officially closed. It was concluded that they had shot each other. It was never determined who shot first, but judging by the amount of blood on the scene, it took Tracy longer to die, Alan died almost instantly, so it is believed that he shot first."

"Autopsy showed that Tracy died as a result of two gunshot wounds to her chest, between nine and eleven pm the previous night", Lilly read, growing interested. "Ballistics linked the bullets recovered from her with the gun found in Alan's hand. Only his fingerprints were found on the gun. Alan died as a result of a single gunshot wound to his head, also between nine and eleven pm the previous night. Ballistics linked the bullet recovered from his brain with the gun found in Tracy's hand. Only her fingerprints were found on it. They both had traces of gunshot residue on their hands and clothing. There were no other signs of violence found on the bodies, no signs of a sexual assault, nothing under their fingernails, all tox screens came back clean. They both had the guns in their right hands, and family and friends of both victims confirmed that they were both right handed."

Jeffries sighed. "It was also revealed that Alan was hardly a man who would randomly run into a black woman in the dark alley and offer her a safe walk home."

"Both guns were legal .45 was registered to Alan and .38 was registered to Tracy", Lilly read. Then she looked up at Jeffries. "What did you mean by... that comment?"

Jeffries sighed, tilting his head at the side. "His mother abandoned him, his father and his younger brother when he was ten and took off with another woman. His father was a long life member of Ku Klux Klan, as well as his grandfather. Got killed in a bar fight when Alan was fifteen. That guy hated everyone: gays, Jewish, African American people, Asian people, biracial people... you get the idea." He sighed. "At the time, he was also a murder suspect."

Lilly glared at Jeffries. "A murder suspect?"

"Yes. An African American boy, Steven Jonson. Found stabbed to death in an alley two miles away from Alan's apartment. Over thirty stab wounds to the chest, face, stomach, arms, genitals..." He sighed. "It happened a month before Alan's death. A racial slur was found written on a near by wall, in boy's blood."

"Why is this case getting reopened?", Lilly asked, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that suddenly appeared in her stomach.

"Because of a single photograph", Jeffries exclaimed.

It was just about then that Lilly stumbled upon the copy of the said photograph, placed inside one of the files. She picked it up and examined it closely. The photograph showed Alan and Tracy standing next to each other, with wide smiles on their faces, staring directly into the camera. Judging by the background, it was night and they were on a fair or an outdoor party of some sort.

"Alan's house changed several owners since the murder, but the newest owners are the only ones who decided to completely re decorate it. As a result, the metal box was recovered underneath the floor boards on the place where Gary's room was. Among other things, a photograph was found inside. This one. Woman read about the case several times in her past, even lived in the area at the time of the murders and knew that it was concluded that Alan and Tracy had killed each other, that the murders were believed to be racially motivated. She recognized them on this photograph. Concluding that it casts a different light on the case, she turned it over to the police. Several experts confirmed that the photograph is authentical and that people on the photograph really are Alan and Tracy."

"This definitely... changes the perspective", Lilly noted, still looking at the photograph. It was almost chilling, how... happy they looked. Especially with crime scene photographs in her mind.

Jeffries nodded his head in a sign of an agreement. "Does this look like a racist and an African American girl at each other's throats?", he commented more than asked. "And according to the date, that was also proven to be authentical, the photograph was taken after that infamous confrontation on the road."

Lily frowned. "And judging by that position, neither of them could have taken the photograph, so who took it?"

Jeffries shrugged. "Maybe they had a camera that you can set to take photo after a minute?"

"Maybe." She closed the file and looked up at Jeffries. "But again, this photograph doesn't prove that the original theory was completely wrong, only that the investigators were wrong about the motive. Maybe it wasn't something race related, but a lover's quarrel."

"But it makes for a new perspective on the case and raises some questions", Jeffries concluded. "And boss thinks that is enough reason for a case to get re opened."

Lilly frowned and sighed silently before taking another look at the case file, crime scene photograph a chilling contrast to the one recently recovered. "What happened to them?", she whispered.

~OPENING ROLES AND CREDITS~


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't own any of the Cold Case characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
> 
> Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.

A/N: I don't own any of the Cold Case characters and I am not making any money from writing this.

Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.

Within half an hour, all team members were sitting at their desk in the conference room, examining the case files and discussing the case, except for John, who had been standing bext to the plastic board on the middle of the room, with forensic reports and crime scene photos plastered on it, also with a file in his hand."Alan Grey, twenty five, a High school drop ou", John read, standing in front of his colleagues. Lived in Brooklyn with his brother, Mac, fifteen at the time. Owned a car repair shop."

"Tracy Smith, twenty", Nick read. "Also lived in Brooklyn, about fifty miles away from Alan. With a roommate, twenty years old Emily Davies. They were both attending city college. Tracy worked as clerk in a local bookstore in order to support herself. The bookstore was owned by a man named Stanworth, who died from cancer in 2002. He knew nothing useful for the investigation. Emily was a flowerist in a local bookstore. She is now married, has children, lives in Manhattan, and works as a journalist for New York Times."

"Nothing was stolen from the bodies?", Lilly asked.

"No, they still had their watches and wallets, their apartment keys and car keys. Both of their cars were found parked near by", Nick explained.

Jeffries took a sip of his coffee. "According to Alan's brother, Mac, Alan went out at about nine pm saying that he had some errands to run and warned him not to wait up for him. Mac went to sleep at about ten, and woke up once the police came knocking at his door. Emily slept at her boyfriend's apartment that night. According to Tracy's boss, she left work little before nine pm."

"And nobody heard the shots or discovered the bodies until the next morning?", Scotty asked.

"It wasn't a very traffic area, and grocery store near by had been closed that day due to a renovation", Lilly noted.

Scotty sighedd, staring at the idom plastered on the centar of the board. "And now, this photograph..."

"They look happy", Lilly noted, kinda longingly.

Nick groaned. "Well, that didn't last."

"They did find traces of gunshot residue on both of their's hands and the clothing", John noted.

"It isn't really an exact science", Lilly claimed. "It would have landed on them even if they were only close by when the shots were fired. As far as we know, neither of them ever pulled the trigger that night."

"Tracy and Emily started receiving threatening phone calls soon after the confrontation", Scotty read. "They stopped about a week later. But the confrontation was never mentioned by them and it was only after the murder that some of the witnesses dared to speak up."

"Forensic recovered one usable fingerprint on the box and one on the photograph, both match to Alan... But I don't understand why Alan would be hiding the photograph in the first place?"

"Gotta watch the reputation", Nick added sarcastically. Kat just glared at him.

"Lilly, Scotty, go talk to Mac. He now lives on Manhattan, owns a furniture factory. Emily still lives in Brooklyn, though in another area. Nick, Kat, go talk to her. I will talk to a lead detective on the case, see what I can find out."

They all silently agreed, nodding their heads, and went to work.

#

Scotty and Lilly walked into Mac's factory together after showing their badges to the security guards outside.

Scotty thought long before deciding to ask what he had been wondering for days. "How is your..."

Lilly cut him off, already knowing to who he was refering too.

"Still on evaluation."

Scotty nodded his head, noticing that Lilly avoided to look at him. "Is Christina doing well?", he asked carefully.

"She is making a progress", Lilly answered.

They soon found who they were looking for. Lilly was glad too, since she wasn't in a mood to talk about her family problems. After three months, she though that things would settle down, but there was still a lot of progress to be made.

"Are you sure that... you don't need any help or anything."

Lilly sighed. "I'm fine."

Mac was standing in the middle of the room, giving directions to the workers. He was of average height and weight, with short brown hair and brown eyes, with brown beard and moustache. Lilly and Scotty approached him.

"Mac Grey?", Lilly called.

He turned to face them. For a moment, Lilly felt like she had seen a flash of Mac as a teenager, but in the next moment he was an adult again.

"Yes?"

Soon, they were sitting at the desk in Mac's office, him sitting opposite to them, and he looked both interested and somewhat depressed after they explained Why they were there.

"So, you are thinking that somebody else may be involved?", he asked, his face a bit pale as his lower lip quivered a bit.

"Yes", Lily said, carefully. "We found a photograph that shows that the relationship with your brother and the other victim might had not been as strained as the original theory made it out to be."

Mac shook his head before sighing and leaning back in his chair. "Man... all these years, I though that it was his fault. I feel terrible."

"You are in no way at fault in this", Lily assured him. Mac just nodded his head, but didn't look entirely convinced.

"We know about your father", Scotty started out carefully, studying his reactios. "And grandfather. And a mother. And your brother's... brush ins with the law."

Mac nodded his head, looking unsurprised. "I know you do", he informed them. "Alan wasn't perfect. But I loved him. He didn't deserve to end up that way." He sighed, looking away for a moment. "And neither did that girl."

Lily glared at him. "So, your older brother was... racist?"

Mac just nodded his head, a hurt expression appearing on his face. "I tried helping him", he said warmly. "But he wouldn't listen", he concluded with a sigh before describing one event some time before the murders.

(Angry Chair by Alice in Chains)

Mac was sitting at the dining room table, eating his Fruit Loops. First sun beams were peaking through the near by window. His brother was sitting on a couch in a living room near by, watching early morning news on TV.

That news caught Alan's attention. Mac felt his stomach sink, knowing what was about to happen next. Another one of Alan's rants. "Can you believe it?", Alan groaned, staring at the TV screen in rage. "These banana eaters damaging properties and freaking killing people because some black douche got deservedly beaten up!" He frowned as the news clip ended. "I hope they will kill them all", he whispered, clenching his fists.

Mac sighed, glaring at Alan. "Alan..."

"What?", Alan asked, snapping snarkily at his brother.

Mac shifted in his chair, suddenly feeling even more uncomfortable. "You know that I don't like hearing you say such things", he explained carefully.

Alan gave him a look before standing up, slowly starting to walk over to him, his facial expression a mixture of hurt and... passion of some sort. It was scaring, really.

"You should be proud of me", he said, almost sounding offended. "I am one of rare people in this country who aren't afraid to voice their opinion, no matter how controversial! To spread the truth!"

Mac stared up at his big brother in fear. He knew that probably wasn't a good idea, but he felt a need to say something. "I don't know, Alan. They are people too. They couldn't chose... what race they will be."

Alan walked over to Mac and looked him in the eyes. Mac twitched. "Mac... I earn for our living, I always take care of you, always take your side", he said in the most assuring tone he could. "Would I ever teach you something that is wrong, that would make you a bad person? Huh?"

Mac remained silent. He wished that he had never tried to stabs up to Alan. He should have just ignored him.

"Answer me", Alan demanded.

"Maybe you don't... can't understand that it is wrong." He looked down at the floor once again, Alan's gaze still centered at him. "Even if it is", she whispered before looking up to meet his eyes.

Alan sighed, trying to remain calm. "Mac. Do you watch the news?"

Mac nodded his head, knowing full well what was about to happen next.

"Do you know how many white woman get raped but those black thughs every day?"

Mac felt his mouth turn dry, but he didn't dare to look up. "It happens, but..."

Alan didn't let him finish. "How many niggas convince good white kids to do drugs? Ruining their lives?"

No response. Alan took a step closer, looking down at Mac. "Only man and woman can reproduce. Have children. Do you even understand that fags and dykes can't even have an actual sex, if you can call what they have a sex, without lube and sex toys and special positions and who knows what? Have you heard of Gacy? Dahmer?" "Haven't I told you what my neighbor did to me? How can you even think that anything other than a white race and heterosexuality is any good, with such an overwhelming evidence to the contrary?"

Alan lowered his voice. He sounded scary... and strangely convincing. "Do you actually believe that every person has to be considered an equal, in all aspects of life, regardless of the race, gender, nationality, looks and all?", he asked, his voice raising only for a moment, every word filled with passion. "That is against the human nature, man. Against the nature in general. Even animals, even inside the one species, have a hierarchy. Inequality is a part of a life. And I won't stand those damn liberals and Jews and who knows who try to brainwash people today into believing otherwise. That is unfair. That is a part of their selfish elaborate agenda." His tone of voice turned husky. "Can't you see it?"

Several tense seconds passed. Alan's jaw was clenched while he was looking in, through his brother's eyes. Mac felt a lump form in his throat, thinking that everything was a mistake. But, to his surprise, Alan leaned over to him, making him shiver, and placed a gently kiss on his forehead. Mac felt himself relax a bit as Alan pulled away. "You will understand one day", he assured him, his tone of voice unusually gentle. He turned to check at the clock on the wall. "Get ready for school", he ordered, looking back at Mac. "Don't be late."

Mac just nodded his head and went to his room.

Mac sighed, looking away. "I simply couldn't argue with him", he whispered. But I had always loved him. He was my brother. I miss him every day." He turned back facing Scotty and Lilly and sighed again.

"Do you have any idea as to who would want to harm your brother?", Scotty asked.

"No. Sure, he was... nasty... his views and all... and he wasn't really hiding it... but I don't remember anyone specific." He suddenly frowned before continuing. "Although, about three weeks before he got killed, somebody threw a rock at our living room window. He told me to stay inside, he went out and said that he will take care of it. He returned a few hours later. He simply told me that "it" had been done and didn't talk about that anymore."

Scotty and Lilly exchanged a look.

#

John paced around lieutenant George House, big and heavy set brown haired man who was sitting at his desk and going over the documents while talking to him. "Yes, I worked on that case", George confirmed, nodding his head. Even after it got solved, it kept me up at nights for months. We were afraid of escalation of violence. Luckily, nothing got out of control." "Keep that in mind."

"We will not make a sensation out of this. But there are some things that we have to look into."

George gave him a piercing look. "My team didn't overlook anything."

John sighed. "New evidence showed up. It has nothing to do with you."

George nodded his head. "I always thought that there was more to that than met the eye. And so there was."

John nodded back. "There was. Have you suspected anyone else before ruling that they killed each other."

"Tracy's ex boyfriend. I'm gonna be honest with you. I was almost completely sure that he did it."

#

Nick and Vera observed Emily while she was sitting at her work desk. She still had the shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes. Her skin wasn't as smooth as it used to be and her facial features were a little different: for a moment, Kat was able to see an image of young Emily flash in front of her eyes.

"Tracy was one of the nicest people I knew", Emily said, her eyes slightly watering up as her face turned warm. "She was so kind and gentle... accepting. And fun to be around."

She suddenly looked down at her desk and sighed, her hands shaking a little. "After she got killed... and the mass hysteria that the case had caused... it really hit me hard. I barely had the strength to go to her funeral. For years, I couldn't even bring myself to talk to her."

She looked back up at Nick and Vera, slightly calmer. "But after a while I've learned to only think of the good moments."

Kate nodded her heat sympathetically. "That's good", she assured Emily.

Emily nodded her head, her lips pressed firmly together. "And now you are telling me that she was in a relationship with that guy", she muttered. "The guy who killed her." She shook her head, more as a sign of denial or some faint hope than a disagreement. "I can't believe that. I don't want to, actually." Her eyes met Kat's as a first tear rolled down her cheek. "You didn't know her", she whispered softly. "She appreciated herself too much to be with someone like him. And from what I've heard about him, I don't think that he would want to have anything to do with her either."

"I take it that, other than a possible relationship part, you know everything about Alan's and Tracy's history."

"She told me about that incident on the road. I tried to convince her to find out who that guy was, to turn him in, but she didn't want to do it. Soon after, we started getting that threatening phone calls and all. We reported those, but didn't mention the road incident. Tracy wanted it that way."

"Why?", Kat asked.

Emily Rubens her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I guess that she didn't want to make that guy even more angry. And... I don't think that she had enough faith in the police. With the situation way back. Riots and all."

"But then the phone calls stopped coming and things started going back to normal. When I heard that she got killed... and when I found out that the guy she had a fight with killed her... I couldn't believe it."

"Were there any other strange or suspicious things happening to you after the phone calls stopped?", Nick asked.

"No, I don't think so", Emily answered, shaking her head. "Although, there was that one thing, shortest before the threatening stopped. Tracy left the apartment at about eight pm, said that she had some errands to run. I was concerned, wanted to come with her, but she convinced me not to. She said that she will be back quickly, but it took her two hours. And when she returned... I knew that something was wrong."

(Come Talk To Me by Peter Gabriel)

Emily felt her heart beat up in her throat as she took one more look on the clock on the wall. Ten pm. She looked at the front door, listening carefully. Nothing.

She started seriously considering to call a police when she heard the sound of the door unlock. Tracy opened the door and went inside, closing the door behind and looking Down at the floor. Emily jumped of her couch and immediately approached her, both Happy to see her back and concerned about her. "Tracy, where were you?", she asked. "I was worried sick!"

Tracy looked up at her. Her lower lip was quivering Abd drops of sweat reflected on her forehead, but she did her best to remain calm. "I'm sorry, things... got dragged out."

Emily's eyes met Tracy's as her tone of voice turned soft. "Are you OK?"

"Yes, why are you asking?", Tracy asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but it wasn't very convincing.

Emily sighed, tilting her head at the side. "Tracy..."

"I'm fine", Tracy said, looking away before walking toward her room. She heard Emily go after her, so she stopped and turned to face her, sighing in annoyance.

"Don't worry about me, Emily. There's nothing wrong."

"I just want you the best. I don't want you to get hurt."

That seemed to calm Tracy a little, and she smiled slightly. "Same here", she whispered. "But don't worry", she said reassuringly. "Nothing happened."

Emily nodded her head, although not entirely convinced, before Tracy went to her room.

"I will never forget her", Emily whispered.

"Tracy owned a gun?", Kat asked.

"Yes. It wasn't a really safe neighborhood back in the days. Several break ins, drive by shootings... she had gotten it about a year before she got killed."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I don't own any of the Cold Case characters and I am not making any money from writing this.

Please forgive any minor spelling and grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.

That late afternoon, all team members gathered to review the case files and read the witness statements.

"What about Steven's parents?", Lilly suggested. "They could have found out that Alan was considered a suspect. They finally have enough, follow him and confront him while he is meeting with Tracy. It is a bad neighborhood. Both he and Tracy have guns with them. Things happen."

"Both incidents, Tracy leaving her apartment late at night and Alan leaving his house after a rock gets thrown through his window, had happened three weeks before their deaths", Scotty read. "About the time Steven had gotten killed."

"So, Alan somehow tracks down Tracy following that confrontation at the side of the road", Will theorized. "He starts harrassing her and her roommate, she receives one phone call too many and has enough of it. Having tracked him down somehow by that point, she drives to his place and throws a rock through his window. He catches a glimpse of the attacker leaving, decides to handle that on his own, he brings a knife with him too, just in case. He starts driving after her, Tracy manages to elude him, he runs into Steven, maybe he thinks that the Steven can help him locate her, the boy refuses, Alan loses it, takes the knife..."

"It wasn't a big neighborhood, they could have both tracked each other by asking a few questions around", Scotty said.

"Let's not rush", Kat said. "As far as we know, maybe that two cases aren't even connected. Maybe Alan didn't even kill Steven. Look, after the murder they searched Alan's apartment and all. Have they found anything linking him to the murder?"

"Not really. It was raining the night Steven had gotten killed. The body was discovered three hours later when his parents went looking for him. Water washed away most of the evidence. ME did conclude that the killer was right handed, strong, between 5'8 and 5'11. It could have been Alan, but it also could have been... almost anyone else."

"Some evidence remained on the wall near by. Other than a note written in victim's blood, they also found smeared traces of motor oil. Very common brand unfortunately."

"Murder weapon, a kitchen knife, was found in a dumpster half a mile away. No usable fingerprints, only Steven's blood on it. Traces of the killer's blood were found too, but not enough for DNA analysis. One of the knives found in Alan's kitchen set matched to that knife."

"But that knife was still there", Will said.

"Yes, but they also found an old set of kitchen knives in the basement, identical to the new ones", Scotfy said. "Only one knife had been missing. The one of the same model and size liked the one used to murder Carl."

"They also found a remains of a metal zipper in a fire pit in the backyard."

"Somebody burned the jacket in there."

"Probably because it was coverned in blood. Forensics found traces of human blood on the zipper. Too degrated to be of more use though."

"Tracy's father died when she was twelve, her mother died in 2004", Lilly read. Her brother now lives in Chicago. I'll try finding his phone number, try to talk to him."

"Tracy's ex boyfriend was Terrance Heffernan", John said. "He is currently out of town on business, he will return today. I will pick him up and take him for questioning."

"Steven's parents now live in Manhattan", Nick said, standing up. "I guess I have a long ride ahead."

#

Nick took out a notepad and a pen while sitting at the table opposite to Steven's parents, Eddie and Shanna, in their apartment. "Steven was a good boy", Shanna whispered, looking through the window. Her eyes seemed to water up a little. "So sweet... polite... I still miss him, every day."

"I'm afraid that we can't tell you anything that we hadn't already told the police", Eddie exclaimed.

Nick frowned. "And you had no contact with Alan Grey at all?"

"No", Eddie said. Shanna just shook her head.

"But you knew that he was a suspect?", he asked.

"Yes", Eddie answered, nodding his head. Shanna turned to face Nick.

"Is this about our boy? Or about what happened to him? And that girl."

Nick shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortable. "About him and that girl", he explained, carefully. "But your son's murder might have something to do with that."

Eddie looked Nick in the eyes, his jaw clenched. "I won't lie to you. I'm sorry about the girl. But if that guy had killed my son, and I am almost certain that he did, I'm glad that he is dead." He took a deep breath and gently embraced his wife. "But me and my wife have nothing to do with that", he assured him.

#

Scotty wasn't surprised upon finding Lilly standing in front of the board, looking at the crime scene photographs and forensic reports-most of them regarding Steven's murder-on it.

"Something interesting?", he asked as he walked over to her, handling her a cup of coffee.

"Look at this", she said, taking one of the crime scene photographs off the wall and showing it to Scotty. It was the one showing the house near the alleyway where Carl's body was found. "There is no car parked in front of this house."

Scotty frowned, observing the photograph. "There should have been?"

Lilly showed him another photograph, of the same house, taken sometime prior. That time, there was a car parked in front of the house. "A drive by shooting occurred two days prior in the same area. Perpetrators were in custody at the time, so they can't be the killers. But on the crime scene photograph, you can see the blue Ford parked in front of that same house. Look how dirty it is. It had obviously been there for quite the time, maybe even weeks. But, on the night of Carl's murder, it wasn't there."

"Somebody fixed it?"

Lilly smiled. "And forensics found fresh traces of motor oil on the wall near the body. And the man who used to live there, Jake Greenhouse, sixty at the time, owned a grey Ford. With the same licence plates and everything. That was his car. The question is, if he hadn't fixed it right away, why after three or four weeks?"

"Maybe he couldn't. But that night, he finally found somebody to fix it for him."

#

Jake Greenhouse was sitting in an armchair in one of the common rooms in a local retirement home. He looked much older than on 1992 photograph, her hair rarer and brighter, and he seemed to have put on some weight too. "It took you some time to figure that out", he said, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips for a moment. "Yeah, somebody fixed my car. I already had a serious health problems, back then. Pain in the back and all. I couldn't have fixed it on my own."

"You hired somebody to do it for you", Lilly said softly. Jake said nothing, but both Lilly and Scotty knew that they were right.

"Do you remember who?", Scotty asked.

Jake's eyes flew over the room for a few seconds, a sigh escaping his lips. Finally, he looked Scotty in the eyes, forcing the last remains of his strength to form a somewhat stern facial expression. "You think that he murdered that boy?", he asked silently, his voice soar.

"We just want to talk to him", Scotty assured him. "Maybe he had seen something."

"If he hadn't contacted you by now, you'll consider him a suspect. If he says that he hadn't seen anything, you will consider him a suspect."

"If he is innocent, he has nothing to be afraid of", Lilly said.

Jake scoffed at that, but refused to look at them. "Wayne would have never done that", he whispered.

Lilly frowned at him. "Wayne?" Jake didn't even twitch. It wasn't a slip of a tongue. He was easing into the revelation. Once he turned to look back at Lilly and Scotty, his eyes were a mixture of defeat with just a bit of determination. "Wayne Seaver. A boy who lived there. Good kid. He worked at the local gas station. He would sometimes do garden works for me."

"He had a key. Next morning I found a car in my garage, obviously fixed, keys in the ignition. He must have drive it there that night. I paid him the next day."

#

Wayne looked nervous while sitting at the table in interrogation room. He couldn't stop looking at the near by camera.

"Wayne, Wayne...", Scotty said, reading a case file before sitting at the table next to Lilly, facing Wayne. "Mr. has a pretty interesting definition of a "good kid". Assault charge in 1990, theft charge in 1991... and now we know that, in 1992, you were fixing mr. car on the night when twelve years old Carl was brutally murdered, barely a block away from the scene."

"I had nothing to do with that", Wayne said, defensivelly.

"Maybd you didn't", Lilly said calmly. "But maybe you saw something."

"I didn't."

Lilly frowned at him, not convinced. "So close, lonely night... you didn't see anything?"

Wayne shook his head. "No."

"There were traces of motor oil found on the wall next to the body", Scotty pointed out.

"I didn't left it there!", Wayne exclaimed. His face fell. "I mean I did, but... I didn't kill him."

#

(100 Percent by Sonic Youth)

It was a dark, old night. Wayne smiled at the sight in front of him, feeling himself sweat under his motor oil drained T-shirt. Finally, he had fixed the car.

He was interrupted by the sight of a speeding car rushing next to him. The car passed by the neat by alley, then drove back and stopped. Wayne didn't think much of it, and used a towel to wipe the oil stains from the car.

Suddenly, Wayne heard a scream. A loud, blood quirling screamed, coming from the alleyway.

Wayne instinctively ran towards the alleyway, the fear only kicking in once he was halfway there. He eventually stopped near the entry and peeked inside, his senses alarmed as he felt his heart beats up in his throat.

There was Alan, lying down on his knees, on the ground, holding at... something. At first, Wayne couldn't see what that was. But it didn't take him long to realize that it was a body. A child's body, covered in blood.

His heart skipped a beat at the horrific sight and he jumped away, barely withholding a scream. He felt his throat dry out and he just stood there for a few seconds, with back against the wall, breathing heavily and looking up to the sky, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just taken place.

He decided to check things out once again and peeked inside one more time. Alan was shaking at the body, crying hysterically.

"Wake up!", he cried, shear desperation and terror in his voice sending shivers down Wayne's spine. He took one more look at the boy. Carl's eyes, open wide, met his. He tried to say something, but only managed to cough a little, blood spewing out of his mouth, before his eyes suddenly became dull and lifeless.

Alan's face turned into a grimace. He wanted to scream, to yell, to punch at the walls, but he just felt... drained. Broken. More out of some inner spite towards himself, he slowly looked up at the wall. There it was, a slur that he had been using ever since he was a child, used proudly, there it was, big and terrifying, written on the wall above the dead child, in what looked like blood, in what was, he was sure, his blood.

Suddenly, another person ran into the alleyway, through the other end. Young African American woman, wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans, her long black hair falling down her shoulders, some of it falling in front of her face in a hurry.

She first noticed the boy, and her face immediately twisted into the grimace of unspeakable horror. She screamed something that Wayne couldn't understand, ran over to the body, getting down on the knees herself. She touched at his neck and chest, held up his hands. It was only then that the tears started rolling down her face.

She realized that the boy had been dead.

Then, she caught a glimpse of a note written on a near by wall, and slowly, as if fearing of what she will see, turned her head in order to get a full look at it, eventually standing up.

Her eyes widened and her breathing seemed to have stopped for a moment.

It was only then that she had noticed Alan there, also standing up by that point, staring, with eyes wide, at the same note, his face pale and coated with sweat. He barely even registered her presence.

"What did you do?", she yelled, ready to throw the first punch.

"Nothing!", Alan cried. "I found him! I was looking for you!"

Tracy snickered at him, her insides twisting with disgust. "Liar!"

"I am telling the truth!", Alan cried. "You were hiding from me, didn't you? Do you think that I had time to do... that? I don't have a knife or anything!"

Alan froze, staring down at the ground, ignoring the glimpse of the body. "I tried to help him... but he died", he finished, breaking down in sobs as he buried his face into his bloody hands.

Tracy stood there for some time, just watching him. It made her heart ache, how honest he looked. How shaken. Despite of what he did to her, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She felt that he really had nothing to do with the murder.

Slowly, she walked over to him and, before he was able to register it, she wrapped him into a tight hug.

Alan twitched, his defense instinct kicking in: he wanted to pull away, he even felt something like disgust seep down his insides, but he couldn't break free. He didn't want too. Because it also felt strangely right.

After almost a full minute, Tracy pulled away gently. But the look that she gave Alan was firm and completely serious. "We have to call the police", she said.

Alan jumped aside, pushing her aside slightly, his face immediately turning into a panicked expression. "No!", he cried. "They will never believe me."

Tracy glared at him. "Alan..."

"They'll think I did it!", he yelled. "Even you did at first! Look, I got the blood all over me and all... they will never believe me!"

"Alright, now we will part ways. Somebody will find him. I know where you live, I'll come to your place the next morning, at about nine am. We have to get our stories straight. You will be alone, right?"

"Right."

"Good. Wash your clothing and clean up your car. Use bleach or something."

They both ran away down the other end of the alleyway. Before running away, Tracy stood in front of the body, looking at Steve's lifeless face. A tear rolled down her cheek as she pulled his eyelids down.

Wayne slowly walked over to the body, staring down at it, thinking of what to do next. Eventually, he ran away, accidentally brushing against the wall, just at the moment the rain began to fall.

Lilly looked at him. "And you never told anyone, until now?"

Wayne shrugged, looking ashamed. "No. Obviously, those two had nothing to do with the murder. And I was on privatnom at the time. I didn't want to get in trouble!" He sighed, looking exhausted. "For months, I had nightmares about that night."

#

Terrance looked similar to Wayne, only he was taller and more buff. He seemed calm while looking at John who was sitting opposite to him. "I had an alibi, remember? I was at work at the time the murders happened", he pointed out.

"That only means that you couldn't have done it by yourself, not that you hadn't been involved", Lilly pointed out, walking over to him.

"Look, I appreciate your effort. Finally reopening the case and trying to find the truth. But I had had nothing to do with those murders."

"You don't think that Alan killed her?", John asked.

"It didn't take me long to find out where that guy lived. I went to the guy's house, ready to kick his ass and all. I caught a glimpse of her through the living room window. I was about to rush inside when I realized that they were talking. I just... wanted to hear it."

(Everybody Hurts by REM)

Terrance positioned himself, with his eat against the glass, so he could hear what Alan and Tracy had been talking about while in the same time looking inside.

Tracy looked at Alan in disbelief. "I can't believe it", she said, sounding hurt. "After everything you had seen, you are still standing behind this... sick beliefs?"

Alan twitched a little, but remained calm. "You don't know anything about it."

Tracy took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "We had met many times the last week", she said softly. "To get our stories straight, you said. But I know better. I know that you are hanging out with me because you want to see can you accept me. And other people like me. Despite the color of our skin. And you can! You just have to keep trying. We even managed to get along well, find out that we have many things in common! I support your..."

"Don't twist this around!", Alan flipped out, his face flushed with fury. Tracy gasped and took a step back. Alan didn't stop, but tried to remained calm."I accept you. That is an exception, not the rule. You are above others like you, I admit that. I appreciate that. But don't..."

Tracy interrupted him. "You claim that it is in our genetics. That even if somebody turns out to be good, like me, then they must be an exception, not the rule. Have you ever heard of Albert Fish, Ted Bundy? They were white. Or will you say that them were exceptions and not the rule, when it comes to the white race? Do you have any idea how hypocritical and sensless that is?"

Alan remained silent for a few seconds, having trouble finding the words. "You can't understand it."

"Why?", Tracy cried. "Because I am black? Is it that? Can you elaborate, please? Or have you run out of the arguments?"

"Shut up", Alan whispered.

"No, I will not shut up!", Tracy flipped. "And what about all the other people you hate? Homosexual, for example? So what if they can't? You do understand that, from the earliest beginnings of the human race, sex act had been performed in order to achieve pleasure first? That our sex drive was never completely controlled by our urge to? You do know that, by all accounts, homsexuality and bisexuality had been present as long as heterosexuality, dating all the way back to Ancient Greece? That heterosexuality didn't even exist as a term until the mid 19th century?"

"You seem like a smart guy. Will you really turn a blind eye to the facts and continue with this hatred, or hope that this ideology will find contra arguments that I had just made someday?"

"Have you ever been in love? Have you ever felt that... strength? Pull? Do you really think that gender and race should get in a way of two people both feeling that way?"

"You and your brother only had each other, and your father. He was all about that things, this hatred was a part of him. You couldn't help but accept him. You wanted to, felt a need to. He was your father. So you did. But how to accept him and love him completely if you think that his beliefs, a part of his very being is wrong? So you ended up accepting that too. It became a part of you too, over time. After your father had died, your beliefs grew even stronger. You had been cherrishing that part of him, keeping it alive-keeping him alive, in some ways, because it felt the most real, as hatred almost always does-it's a poison." A short silence ensued, both of them shaken with the weight of Tracy's words. "But now it's the time to let that go and embrace life." She stopped to catch some breath, looking confidently at her newfound friend. "I think that you are ready."

Alan kept looking down at the ground, nodding his head. Finally, he looked up at Tracy, his eyes watery. "You are right", he admitted. "Everything you said is true. Well, almost everything. There is one more reason why I kept strangling these meetings."

Tracy frowned at him. "What is it?", she asked, something about her voice making it sound like she had already known the answer, but was afraid to accept it.

A tear rolled down Alan's cheek and his lips quivered as he opened his mouth slightly, like he was about to say something, when Tracy's eyes met his.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he rushed over to her, their lips locking together instantly.

Terrance jumped aside, shocked by what he had seen. He stared at the sight for a few moments before turning around and leaving.


	4. Chapter four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't own any if the Cold Case characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
> 
> Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.

All the team members were sitting around the table in the main office, not really going through the files again as much as thinking about what they had just found out, having shared the informations earlier, allowing it to weigh down on them, trying to clear their minds. Will eventually started reading an autopsy report again while Lilly took a sip of coffee.

"So, Alan really did change", Will whispered, staring at the wall. It sounded odd, not just due to a silence finally being broken, but also because it felt like it was only then that everyone realized that.

It took a few seconds before somebody else spoke. Nick groaned. "Seeing a child dying in your arms, seeing a slur written in his blood, which indicates that somebody killed him because of the same beliefs you share... that is enough to make almost everyone realize that what you believe in may not be so right after all."

Kat frowned. "But how much did he change?", she wondered. "Maybe he snapped again."

Lilly sighed, closing the file. "I don't think so", she admitted. "I think that the third person killed Steven, Alan and Tracy."

"If they were so shaken up over what they had seen, maybe they decided to launch their own investigation", Kat theorized.

Will nodded his head. "They went too far and had to be eliminated."

#

The rehab clinic where Christine was saying was actually a nice house in the suburb, although all the walls inside were almost depressingly white.

Christine was sitting at the table in the visitation room, Lilly sitting opposite to her. Christine looked a paler and thinner than usual, but she was dressed in her regular clothing.

"How are you doing?", Lilly asked.

Christine looked up, trying to smile. Her cheeks blushed: she looked kinda ashamed. "Good. They are taking a good care for me."

Lilly returned a smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

Short silence ensued. Both women kept looking around and clasping their hands, Like they were trying to think of what to say... or like they knew what and were building up courage.

"Have... have you seen Nicole recently?", Christine asked, her voice shivering as something sparkled in her eyes.

"Yes", Lilly answered, warmth spreading through her chest as, in the same time, something like a lump started forming in her throat. She reached in her purse, avoiding to make an eye contact with a young blonde.

#

"I've done the research", Scotty exclaimed, sitting at the table with a big file in his hand. "There was a science fair in Philadelphia two weeks before the murders. But tracking down all the people and the photographers who attended it... that would almost be impossible."

John kept going through the files for the fourth time, desperately looking for something. Finally, he stopped and sighed. "There is one thing missing in these files", he eventually exclaimed, looking up.

They all stared at him, remaining silent, waiting for an explanation. Some of them had a feeling they knew what he meant, but didn't want to rush.

"Phone records", John said. "They talked to families, friends, searched their rooms, cars, date books... but there are no phone records."

Nick widened his eyes. "Somebody disposed of them."

Lilly frowned. "Somebody who had access to the files and power over the investigation."

#

John stood in George's office once again, trying to remain calm as he was about to bring out a serious accusation. "The phone records are missing, George", John exclaimed. George flinched, but said nothing. "You had an access to the case files."

An awkward silence ensued. George was staring at John with eyes wide. John knew he had him, but things didn't turn out that easy. "I wasn't the only one", George calmly pointed out, trying to sound calm and innocent. And not succeeding, not completely.

"Yes, but you could have easily disposed of them and make sure that nobody would question it. The case wasn't officially re opened until now, but it was a high profile case. That box couldn't just be laying on the shelf for all these years."

"And why would I do that?"

John shrugged. "I don't know, you tell me."

George sighed, trying to remain calm. "John, I have to admit that I don't like you throwing accusations at me."

"What happened, George? You didn't want their relationship to come to light? You didn't want to risk the press getting a hold of it? Or you simply didn't want to bother investigating all possible leads?"

George shook his head, lowering his voice. "The case was already closed. I only did that after the interrogation had ended. And it isn't like it will help you with anything now."

"We can't know that until we see them, and it makes me and my colleagues wonder what else you hid?", John said, glaring suspiciously at George, who swallowed hard. "And how many more evidence from your other cases did you dispose of?"

"I would never do that", George whispered, choking back tears. "Come on, John..."

John cut him off. "Phone records", he said firmly. "Have you kept them?"

George remained silent for a moment, looking George in the eyes, hoping for some Mercy, approval. But eventually he sighed, sat at his desk, went through the drawers and, soon enough, pulled out a big file. He stood up, walked over to John, and handled it to him, remorse evident on his face.

"I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them", he admitted.

"Was there anything else?", John asked, opening the file. He immediately noticed a little yellow business card inside, with name Amy written on it, which George noticed.

"This business card. I found it myself, in Alan's bedroom drawer, and tracked down that Amy Wilkerson. Young girl, a photographer. She refused to talk to us. But she mentioned that they were a couple."

John looked up at George. "Why did you hide that?"

George shook his head. "I told her parents about the affair. They begged me not let that come out."

#

Within half an hour, Amy Wilkerson was sitting at the table in an interrogation room, opposite to Lilly and Scotty. She was a tall and slim blonde woman with blue eyes. Lilly was kinda able to imagine her the way she looked in 1992, but soon she snapped back to attention.

"I didn't feel like talking to the police at the time, especially not about a double murder." "But I am different now."

"Did you take this?"

"Yes", Amy answered calmly, smiling a little.

"When?", Scotty asked.

Amy sighed. "I was at that science fair nineteen years ago... that's when I ran into them."

Vjkk

(You Get What You Give by New Radicals)

"Tell me again why we are here", Alan groaned, looking around.

"Because this is a place where many people of different races and nacionalities gather over their similar interests", Tracy said softly. "This is a non threatening, comfortable environment. It could help you... grow more... acceptant."

Alan blushed a little, shaking his head. "I am not even into science", he said silently.

Tracy smiled. "There are bunch of things to be find here. Sure you will find something that interests you."

"Excuse me. Would you like me to take a photograph of you?"

"Only five dollars."

"Ergh..."

"Come on, Alan", Tracy said softly, pouting her lips and titlting her head at the side. "I know you want a souvenir", she whispered, gently running her fingers down his left forearm, making him shiver.

Alan blushed, still a little unsure about the idea, then smiled and turned facing the camera. "OK", he said. Tracy giggled, turning to face the camera, as Alan gently embraced

"Good", Amy said, adjusting the camera angie. "Smile..."

They did just that, and, in the next moment, Amy snapped a photograph, capturing one happy, worryless moment in a life of a young couple. She pulled the photograph out of the polaroid camera, waiting for the film to clear and picture to show up. Alan and Tracy shared a kiss, and Alan gently ran his hand through her hair. "Here you go", Amy said, approaching them and almost feeling guilty due to interrupting a moment. Alan took a photograph, smiling brightly upon seeing it, followed by Tracy. Then he pulled out his wallet and paid Amy, thanking her as he did.

"Thanks", Amy said, pulling out her wallet and storing money in it. She pulled out her card and handled it to Tracy.

"If you ever need my services again...", she said.

"Thanks", Tracy staid, storing the card in her wallet. She shared another kiss with Alan before they left down the street together.

Amy was about to walk away in an opposite direction when she spotted a young blonde woman standing behind a near by cart, partially hidden, seemingly looking piercingly at the couple. She and Amy locked eyes, and almost immediately after, the woman turned around and walked away.

Amy looked around, searching for Alan or Tracy, but they were both long gone.

Lilly pulled out Emily's photograph and showed it to Amy. "Was this that woman?"

"Yes."


	5. Chapter four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't own any of the Cold Case characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
> 
> Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.

"We have a witness testifying that you had been following Tracy and Alan about a week before the murders, Emily", Nick exclaimed, surprised by Emily's calm demenaor.

Emily stared blankly at the two detectives for the few seconds. Her lower lip was quivering. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I had a good intentions", she said, sounding ashamed.

Nick glared at her. "You admit to following her?", he asked.

Short silence ensued. "Yes", Emily eventually admitted with a sigh, looking ashamed. "But she actually seemed... happy with him. I've realized that the guy was a bit off... that he had some problems... but it didn't seem too serious and I didn't find out what it was. Or about that... incident. I guess I never ran into them discusssing it." She sighed, running her hand through her hair. "It was only after she got killed that I found out. I stopped following them after a week", she whispered before looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

"To be honest, thinking back of what I've seen, I still can't believe that they had killed each other", she admitted. "Maybe I was right."

"But she did seem nervous in the days following to it... there is one other thing that I have to tell you. That night... I was afraid for her, I started driving to her workplace, hoping to pick her up, but then I've changed my mind and went back home... and then to my boyfriend... and the next morning I find out that she had gotten killed."

She let out a bitter chuckle. "I drove near that alley... and saw the car driving by... I later found out that it was Alan's car. If only I had... but I am still not sure. I saw a person, one person inside... but it was dark." She shrugged. "You reopened the case after all. But I didn't want to push it. There was enough public outrage already."

"When was that?"

"At about seven pm."

Suddenly, she looked up at the detectives, like she just remembered all the accusations. "I didn't kill her, or Alan", she exclaimed. "I had no reason too. I thought that she... they were happy. Call my ex boyfriend. I'm sure he will confirm my alibi, just like he did nineteen years ago."

Nick and Scotty exchanged a look. There were still some doubts, but they felt that she was telling the truth.

Emily looked down at the desk, clasping her hands together. "Tracy meant a world to me", she whispered. "Please find out who did that to her. And Alan."

#

It wasn't long before the whole team was sitting around the table in an interrogation room, studying the case files, desperately looking for any new leads.

"Phone records showed that Alan and Tracy had been talking a lot. Last time an hour or two before the murder. Maybe they arranged the meeting."

Lilly sighed and leaned back in her chair, a frown appearing on her face. "Emily mentioned seeing the car there at about seven pm. Close to the alley. Autopsy report shows that both Alan and Tracy were killed between eight and eleven pm. What were they doing there for over an hour?"

"Who knows how long that argument lasted before it all escalated."

"Maybe Emily is mistaken about time", Nick suggested.

Lilly shook her head. "She did seem very certain."

"She didn't get a good look at the licence plates or the driver. Maybe it wasn't Alan's car at all", Kate suggested.

"That sounds like too much of a coincidence to me", Scotty commented.

Will glared at Lilly. "You think that somebody abducted him? Or forced him to drive there?"

Lilly shook her head. "Emily only saw one person inside the car. No other signs of violence on Alan's body except for the gunshot wound, no binding marks, nothing under his fingernails, tox screen came back clean."

"There were no signs of damage on the car, no signs of breaking and entering", Scotty read.

Lilly continued. "Only usable fingerprints found inside belonged to Alan or Mac. No usable fingerprints on the steering wheel, the key or the rear mirror though. Too smudged." She dropped the file back down on the desk and sighed, staring blankly at it's surface, at all the files, documents and photographs scattered on it. She started to think about creaming it all up and starting to go through the case all over again when she...

Noticed something.

Something that made everything fall in place.

With her mouth opened and her eyes wide, she picked up the photograph and observed it closely, thinking over about the theory that she had come up with, unatrag of her colleagues glaring at her with interest. Eventually, she looked up at them, smiling widely.

"There were traces of another person's blood on the knife used to murder Steven Johnson, right?", she reminded them. The killer cut himself while murdering him."

"Yes", John confirmed.

"And ME concluded that whoever murdered him was right handed, strong, between 5'8 and 5'11 tall?"

Nick shrugged. "Yes, and..."

She showed them the photograph. "This is Mac's birthday photograph-according to the date in the corner, it was taken a week after the murder. Look at his right hand."

"A cut", Kat whispered.

Nick sighed. "I 'd say about a week old."

Scotty frowned. "He is wearing his wrist watch on his left hand. He is right handed."

"Alan was 5'10 at the time. Mac looks about 5'8 at this photograph", John said.

"He wasn't as strong as his brother, but still strong", Nick concluded.

"He would have an access to the old set of knives in the basement", Will pointed out.

"And the fire pit", Lilly added.

"The witness saw two men running away from the scene, one about 5'10 and one about 5'8, but couldn't describe them."

"Partners in crime", Nick concluded. "Until one of them experienced a change of heart."

"Maybe Alan was hiding that box so well because he knew that he had had an enemy in his own house", Kat theorized.

"Maybe he knew that Mac was up to something"., Scotty wondered. "Maybe he even found the sneakers that Mac had taken from Steven after murdering him."

"He turned to his girlfriend for help. Called her, arranged the meeting in that alley, probably at about eight pm."

"Mac probably overheard the conversation and went there an hour before, to lie in wait, with his brother's car", Lilly concluded.

"And his gun", Nick groaned.

Lilly continued. "Alan probably decided to go on foot, he mentioned that while calling Tracy. So Mac made some sort of an excuse, stoke his brother's car keys and took off."

Kat nodded her head. "Waiting for them for over an hour, just to make sure."

Lilly sighed. "And then he killed them."

#

Mac was sitting at the table in the interrogation room, opposite to Scotty and Lilly. Nick was standing near by. Several opened case files laid opened on the table.

"Your story was bs, Mac", Nick said. "You lied. You weren't afraid of your brother. You two shared the same... hatred."

Mac scoffed, trying to sound shocked. " We didn't!"

"There were traces of another person's blood on the knife used to kill Steven Johnson", Lilly exclaimed, glaring at Mac. "The kiler cut himself while stabbing Steven. This photograph was taken a week later. Is this a cut on your hand? Right hand?"

Mac shrugged, remaining calm. "There are many ways that I could have gotten it. I don't even remember anymore."

"In 1992, that blood was too degrated to be of any use ", Lilly explained. "DNA technology is more advanced now. You've managed to keep your criminal record spotless, but you were charged with a traffic offence in 2006. A minor one. But thanks to that, we have your DNA profile in CODIS. Forensics will extract the DNA profile from that blood and match it to you. That would be enough for a search warrant. You still have the sneakers that you had taken from him hidden somewhere, don't you?"

Mac said nothing. Scotty picked up a piece of paper from the desk. "From April 1993 to June 2011, there had been twenty fires set to gay and lesbian bars as well as the synagogues, all located within fifty miles radius from your home and, later, your company. None caused any fatalities, but the damage was significant. Many of those places had been ruined beyond repair. The MO seems to be very similar to the fires your brother was suspected, but never convicted, of committing in 1992. One witness statement seems to suggest that he had an accomplice, whose general description matches to you at the time."

"After you murdered that poor boy and your brother and his girlfriend, you decided that the murder was too much of a stress to you? Too much risk of getting caught? So you've reduced yourself to heartless material destruction and vandalism?"

"I want my lawyer."

"You can hire the best lawyer in the world, but all these evidence ain't going to disappear."

Lilly frowned at Mac, lowering her tone of voice. "What happened, Mac? Your big brother didn't approve of you murdering an innocent helpless black boy? And he was seeing a black girl? That must have hit you hard. Your own blood, betraying you."

Mac was staring at her, a fury evident ih his eyes. "Shut up", he whispered.

But Lilly didn't. "He betrayed you, Mac", she concluded, making Mac flinch. "He introduced you to those beliefs, they became a part if your life, and then he took it all back." She leaned over, staring right into his dark, increasingly watery eyes. "How did that make you feel?"

"They deserved to die! All of them!", Mac screamed, jumping up from his chair. Lilly shivered and put her hand on her gun while John and Scotty walked over closely. But Mac just sighed and stared blankly at the investigators, first tears sparkling in his eyes. He look... defeated. Like he had finally said what was at the tip of his tongue for years. He sat back down, his lower lip quivering. "He betrayed me", he admitted, hints of sob in his voice. "He... I couldn't recognize him anymore." Mac shook his head, his jaw clenched, disappointment being replaced with rage. "He was better off dead", he said, looking back up at the detectives.

#

(Flesh and Blood by Willson Phillips)

Alan was breathing heavily, cool air ih the dark alleyway making him chill. The only source of light was a low quality street lamp near by.

"You have to turn him in, Alan", she whispered.

Alan remained silent for a few moments, like he was trying to finally accept that, only to eventually shake his head, sighing as he did. "He's my brother", he almost cried. "No matter how..."

"He has to learn a lesson", Tracy tried assuring him, not hearing the upcoming footsteps approaching. "If he confesses, shows the remorse..."

"Hi there."

Alan and Tracy both jumped in place, turning to face Mac. Tracy gasped. Alan's face instantly turned pale. "Mac", he whispered. His brother was just staring at them, tensing silent for a few seconds. Then, he spoke, his hands still down on his pockets.

"Alan", Mac exclaimed mockingly before shrugging, a look od disgust appearing at the corners of his lips. "You happy to see your little brother getting to know yoir knew... squeeze or whatever she... it is?", he asked, every word dripping with contempt.

"Mac, I can explain..."

He didn't get a chance to finish. Mac pulled out the gun pointed it at him. Alan froze in place, widening his eyes. Tracy gasped. She tried teaching for her gun, but gave up half the way, knowing that it was too dangerous. She felt cold sweat running down his back.

"Alan, don't..."

"How could you?", Mac hissed, putting his finger on the trigger. "All we believed in..."

"Those things are wrong, Mac. Evil. I can see it now."

Mac gazed at Tracy. A look of disgust appeared on his face. "She brainwashed you", he mumbled.

"She opened my eyes."

"Let me talk to you...", Tracy tried reasoning with him.

"Shut up!", Mac cried.

"Why discriminate people based on something that they can't control?", Alan asked pleadingly. "Did you even tried questioning that... beliefs?"

Mac grinned his teeth, increasing the grasp on the gun. "I know what the truth is", he hissed.

"You are lost", she whispered, tears building up in her eyes.

Mac shot Tracy in the chest, his jaw clenched as he stared into her eyes the whole time. Before she managed to move or even scream, the bullet hit her. She froze in place, a red mark appearing on her T-shirt: the blood started running down to her stomach, her eyes wide and motionless.

He shot her in the chest again: this time she managed to let out something like a groan before falling down on the ground, face up. The gun fell out of her hand, landing on the ground near by. Alan launched himself on his brother, knocking him to the ground, his hand instantly grabbing at the gun. Mac groaned, pain attacking his senses. Alan managed to get the gun away from her and he stood up. It was only then that he got a full view of Tracy's motionless body lying on the ground, her T-shirt already soaked with blood. He gasped, his eyes filling with tears, while Mac was still sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, his skin aching at the sudden commotion, hermuscles tensing partially due to stress, partially due to a sudden attack. He managed to look up at Alan, just at the moment Alan turned to meet his eyes.

"You...", Alan whispered, sounding almost bewildered, tears running down his face while his cheeks turned pale. His hand tightened around the gun, a look of shock and sadness on his face slowly being replaced with a look of rage. Mac thought about standing up and fighting with him, but he was still shaken up and knew that his brother was stronger. He caught a glimpse of Tracy's gun laying on the ground near by...

"You!", Alan screamed, raising the gun at his brother just at the moment he picked up Tracy's gun. He pointed the gun at Mac's chest, his finger starting to press at the trigger as Mac quickly pointed the gun at him and fires, without even aiming.

He shot him straight in the forehead.

Mac stared at his brother in shock, barely managing to believe what he had done.

Alan's eyes were dull and lifeless, the gun still in his hand. He tried to move, but he couldn't. Within seconds, he fell down on the ground, face up, dead. The gun fell out of his hand as he did.

Mac stood in front of his brother, looking down at him. A tear rolled down his cheek. But he felt nothing but pity. What a sad little man. It was a shame, the way she seduced him. What he had become. He was sure that wouldn't happen to him.

He picked up his brother's gun and wiped it clean off fingerprints using his shirt sleeve, then pulled his sleeve over his other hand while still holding the gun with his other hand with the other sleeve over it. He planted the gun in Alan's hand. He then picked up Tracy's gun with a sleeve over his hand and walked over to her body. Using the same trick, he wiped the gun clean off fingerprints, then planted it in her right hand. He looked around once again, making sure that nobody had seen him and that everything looked perfect, and then walked away, hands down his pockets, without looking back. He didn't even think of what he had done, just about what he should tell to the police.

(End of the Road by Boyz II Men)

Mac said nothing while he was being escorted to the jail by Lilly and Scotty, he was just staring bluntly in front of himself, a look on his face more a disappointmen than anything else.

Jake Greenhouse was staring blankly through the near by window, lying lazily in an armchair while one of the nurses walked over to him, bringing him a lunch on the plate. He was thinking back of the old days, when he was actually able to live on his own and most of his friends were still alive.

Scotty walked down the evidence room, with case box in his hands. He eventually stopped, put it on the shelf, and gave it one more look before walking back to the precinct.

John was going through several case boxes, containing the materials from the cases that George had been working on. He looked up from his work and saw George standing in the doorway, looking at him. He just turned around and walked away.

Eddie carefully approached his wife, Shanna, who was standing at the kitchen counter, staring at the floor. He gently touched her hand, making her look up.

For a moment, they locked eyes.

And then, in a rare moment of full clarity, they turned, in the same time, to look at the doorway.

Sad smiles appeared on their faces as their eyes watered up.

Steven was standing there, looking just like he did the last time they had seen him.

Looking happy. Smiling.

So their smiles widened as their smiled back, taking in the sight of him the best they could.

They held their hands together tightly while they watched their son turn around and walk away, finally able to rest in piece.

Lilly was sitting alone at her desk, looking at the childhood photograph of her and Christina. She eventually said and showed it down her pocket, hoping that everything will turn out alright. Only if she would keep trying...

Amy raised her digital camera at the couple standing in front of her in her studio, thinking back once again of that event from nineteen years ago before taking a photograph. Who knows what the real story of that couple was...

Emily placed the fresh boucket of flowers on the ground in front of Tracy's headstone. She stood up and looked at it for some times, thinking back of the good times.

She was abiut to leave when she stopped, having spotted something in the corner. Something that nearly made her heart stop.

She saw Tracy standing there, looking at her, with a smile on her face: completely unchanged, her appearence the same as of the time she had last seen her. It was only a few seconds later that she noticed Alan standing near by, looking at her too and smiling just as brightly.

That lasted for some time, and then the two people turned facing each other, locking eyes.

Tracy offered him her hand, and, without a second thought, he held it.

They shared a smile before turning around and walking away, together, soon fading off into a bright light that seemed to have appeared at the end of the street.

Emily formed a small smile of her own and, finally feeling some closure, turned around and walked away.

~THE END~


End file.
